Florida’s an interesting place to play a show, if you even bother making the trip.

Hitting New Orleans, Birmingham, Atlanta, and Charlotte consecutively is easy, but just getting in and out of the Sunshine State adds a couple of logistically prohibitive travel days, especially touring in a van - consequently, not a ton of shows happen down here, which means the venues are neglected (the moldy carpet fumes I’m breathing in are no doubt taking years off my life), and bands often deal with what’s called a “disco loadout,” a playful term for an infuriating scenario wherein you’re packing out your show while another’s loading in, usually some DJ/Cocaine Cowboy situation, a classic move pulled by greedy venues hoping to double their money with zero concern for crew safety or the fan experience. Tonight, we play at seven freaking thirty to accommodate a “single ladies night” at 10pm, which I can only imagine attracts the cream of the bachelorette crop here in Orlando.

All this to say, I dig playing shows in Florida, precisely because it’s a tough nut to crack, and the fans REALLY love seeing the band, and there’s never been a time where some act of god hasn’t almost derailed our beleaguered train (torrential downpours, in today’s case). Little about this line of work makes any sense, and it’s masochistically satisfying bringing the party to the one state in the union that makes even less.